Finding Home
by Onyxx-09
Summary: Set in early Superman: Man of Steel. Home is different to many people but it remains being the place with the ones you love. What if you didn't particularly HAVE a home but drifted from one place to another? This is the life of Clark. That is, until he met Eve and the fateful day he was ran over. Misadventures follow, & what happens when Lois comes in the picture? AU Kiss It Better
1. Ruby's

**HAPPY NEW YEAR! I'm back with one of the Supes stories I promised!**

**This is sort of AU. and if any of you have read Kiss It Better, you would already be familiar with Eve. If not, you don't have to read that to understand this. This keeps that same characters but takes place in a completely different world than Kiss It Better. I plan that this story will have a happier and perhaps lighter ending than the first, and I'm making my struggle with writing somewhat humor for the first time so please excuse it if it's terrible.**

**This takes place, for now, in the beginning of MoS when Clark was working on a boat, so it's in that small town it showed in the beginning of the movie. This first chapter is some time before the oil rig fire. The town name and everything in it is from my own imagination.**

**[Disclaimer: I'm only typing this once. I do not own anything associating with DC Comics, Louisiana or anything recognizable in here. I'm just a poor, budding college student writing this for nonprofit ****entertainment.]**

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Ruby's Diner was nothing special. It was just like any other small dinner along the southeastern coast.

The floors were the same wooden planks from the day the small building was first built; the age of the restaurant blended in perfectly with the small town. Arcadia, despite having a relatively new remodeling, still reclaimed that older, homey feel, seeming frozen in time as the rest of the world sped on by. It seemed to linger most at the Diner, which is probably why it continued gaining good business after all these years.

Lynn stood on tiptoe to unscrew the lightbulb that had blown the night before after another bar brawl. The blonde was one of the few waitress employed here; in this day and age, jobs—at least those that are well-paying—were hard to come by.

The chimes rang as the door opened. Lynn nodded to the elderly couple walking in, and she along with two other waitresses, returned their sweet smiles.

"Hey!" Lynn called, her attention turned. Her call was directed to Brandi, one of the new girls hired for the diner. Though she's been working for almost a full year to this point, she was still nicknamed as a newbie.

The blonde pointed to the antique-style clock high on the wall above the counter. "It's almost two. Kitchen duty!"

Brandi sighed. She couldn't argue with her boss. Lynn had been gracious enough to squeeze her in with everyone else's schedules already, so there was no room for complaining.

Brandi tied her dark braids up as she walked to the kitchen.

Lynn Frankenshire was given the diner/bar as a hand-me-down that was going on its 54th birthday. It was a family business, one she was reluctant to accept at first but gave in after she wasn't accepted into that university. Standing at almost 5-foot-eight, approaching mid-thirties and exceptionally beautiful, one would have not have known she owned the place until she opened her mouth. She was proud of it, too. And she was not one to recon with—Lynn could stand toe-to-toe with many of the men who came in wanting to start trouble.

Yes, she could be brash sometimes but she wouldn't turn one away from a job they so desperately needed. Which is how several of the men and women working under her came to be employed at Ruby's Diner.

The clock signaled two o'clock in the evening and almost as if on cue, the sound of a boat's bell sounded outside.

Lynn glanced out the window and saw two large crab boats dock in the harbor. She wiped her hands on the towel and thru it in the dirty hamper with the rest of the dirty laundry, huffing out a breath to ready herself. They had just opened about five hours ago and where about to get a full house.

Once the fishermen came in, the place was busy for the rest of the day. And who were also responsible for half of the earnings.

Lynn called for those who were not preparing food to remind them to be on their "P's and Q's," as she put it. The diner had just reopened after a five year hiatus and was well known for their hospitality and amazing Louisiana food, and Lynn wanted to uphold that status.

Minutes later, the door swung open with the sound of heavy boots stomping the floor and men talking filled the once-quiet diner.

Lynn smiled in greeting, then turned to holler at them to wipe their feet, seeing mud and seawater being tracked all over her clean floor. Many of the men who hadn't came inside yet rolled their eyes or scoffed at her. A few stopped to wipe their boots outside respectively.

Monica was the first one out taking orders. Many of the men smiled at her and not only out of respect. She was very pretty—Lynn's younger cousin, to be exact—and she quite knew of it.

Monica was back in a matter of minutes passing out tall mugs of beer and water.

By now, other workers had come out, tending to the sudden rush of fishermen and other customers.

Monica peeked her head past the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. "Hey, Eve," she called to the woman with thick dark brown hair. She looked up from sticking menus under her arm to carry out to the tables. "Can you get some of these tables for me? It's going to take me a little longer to get to them with these drinks."

Eve told her she would after she placed the menus on empty tables.

Monica was a pale woman with thick dark hair to mid-back and bright hazel eyes. She, along with a nephew, were the other relatives of Lynn that were employed here.

Eve took the pencil from her mouth after promptly putting her hair up, walking to a random table. Pad already in hand, she greeted the fishermen politely. After all, they were responsible for the fresh catches of the day.

"Have you gentlemen been helped yet?"

One of the men shoved the one to his right with an elbow. The man was older; the one who sneered from the elbowing looked a lot younger, probably a new member she thought.

"Not all of them are gentlemen," the older man joked, his eyes wrinkling from age and experience.

The frown on the younger deepened.

"But no, we haven't, Miss Eve," the older man smiled sweetly.

The fishermen were such frequent customers, them and the servers were almost comfortable to first-name-bases. But there was still the fine line between profession and acquaintanceship, which some men tended to ignore.

Eve returned the smile genuinely, readying her notepad. "The usual, Mac?"

That earned several sounds of agreement. Eve giggled.

She then turned to the drenched man who had remained moderately silent, stirring his straw around in his glass of water.

Eve set a hand to her hip. "And Mister Greenhorne, we meet again...?" She ignored the eye rolls and raised brows.

Greenhorne tried to hide the small smile that tugged at his lips, obviously not wanting to give the other men something to pick on him for. He gave a polite "hello, Miss Lancaster" nonetheless. He was a quiet one, always keeping to himself, which is why Eve drew his attention to her on purpose in good nature.

"And you—you'd like the norm as well?" she asked, tapping her pencil, not even trying to hide the sly smile on her face.

He had taken a drink from the glass while she spoke. He wiped his mouth before answering, "actually...surprise me."

Eve's head remained tilted to her notepad, and upon his answer, her eyes shot up to him from over the bridge of her nose. For such a mild-mannered man, he showed no shame in that cocky grin.

Eve suppressed the tug at her lips and cleared her throat instead. "Will that be all?" she asked the rest of the table.

The older man, Mac, answered. The others just nodded. Greenhorne downed the rest of his water without another word. Eve rolled her eyes in good manner as she turned to the kitchen. Monica waited until she was safely hidden past the EMPLOYEES ONLY door before following her inside.

She bumped hips with Eve almost as soon as she entered the back room, and didn't even try masking the cat-calls and other teasing suggesting sounds. Eve just rolled her eyes.

"You were totally flirting," Monica smiled like the Cheshire cat, sounding much like a high school girl. "Don't act like you weren't!"

Eve wasn't, though she'd never say. It would surely insist Monica to press the matter more.

"Just because you know someone doesn't mean you flirt whenever you see then," Eve insisted instead.

"Yeah, _riiiight,_" Monica rolled her eyes.

Eve sucked her teeth. "Besides," she ignored Monica's playful mocking, "beard's aren't my thing." She commented on how Henri Greenhorne's bushy face reminded her more of a teddy bear.

All was smooth at the Diner, smiles and laughter filled the place and there wasn't a brawl for the next several weeks. In the small town of Arcadia, Louisiana, it seemed nothing could go wrong but the fair amount of rain for the springtime. Little did they know that was all going to change.

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**Note: Remember in MoS in the beginning on that ship? He was called Greenhorne by the crew members on the ship in the movie. His first name (Henri) is by my own doing. And the comparison, I know *evil smile***


	2. The Oil Fire

**Remember in Man of Steel at the beginning on that ship? He was called Greenhorne by the crew members on the ship in the movie. His first name (Henri) is by my own doing. And the similarities, I know:)**

**All other characters that are not recognized are OCs by me. This is during the fire at the beginning of the movie, fyi**

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Henri Greenhorne had been a good acquaintance. They had never gotten to the level of friendship or further due to both's jobs—if Eve wasn't working in the diner, Henri was far off at sea in some dangerous storm for crustacean, and vise versa.

In fact, that is how the two met: one day Eve had been running from table to table until she came up to the one he was in. Henri had been a much quieter man back then. Maybe it was because he was the "new fish" on the crew then, perhaps that was his nature. But either way, afterward, Eve had found herself drawn more and more towards the mysterious man. They'd make small talk now and then between orders but nothing lasted for more than a few minutes, and then she'd hear the door chime as he left.

It wasn't until one day when her shift ended early did conversation get past the special of the day. It was out of the blue he started up a conversation with her. At first she had stood still, a little startled, apron and work shirt had still been in hand as she was on her way out the door. That is also how they ended up spending Fourth of July and then New Year's together—the first due to Eve not being able to travel to her family's, the second from surgery on her ankle from a freak slip while carrying too many plates. She'd admit that at first, she was wary about being alone with practically a stranger, but then as they talked, she became little by little more and more comfortable. She remembers clinking beer cans over New Years while watching fireworks.

So, Eve could understand Monica's viewpoint of how she could mistake them for being in a relationship.

_'It's talking, not flirting,'_ Eve thought. _'Besides, we hardly even see each other.'_

She didn't have time for someone in her life in that manner. Eve was a lone, independent woman; she was focused on keeping her head above the damaged economy. She didn't have room for someone else in her life in that way, she told herself.

Deep down, she secretly wished she knew him better.

Far off at sea, an oil rig had caught fire. A crab boat radioed in about the find, requesting for a helicopter rescue and to secure the deck.

Crew members crammed into the small radio room to see as much of the fire of those that could fit.

Mac, the ship's captain, had been talking into the radio when he hollered to be handed his binoculars.

"Greenhorne, fetch me my binoculars," he had called. After met by silence, Mac turned to find that the man was no longer in the room. "Greenhorne!?"

He yelled at one of the remaining men to hand him the binoculars, another to make sure that the ship was secure, and barked orders to the remainder.

At the oil rig, Greenhorne had climbed aboard the blazing oil rig to find the remaining crew that was trapped aboard. He knew that they had no chance—by the time the helicopter and rescue team came, they would have already burned to crisps. The crew was stuck in the control room, he found, ripping the metal door from its hinges. The men that were inside the burning room stared in shock. The man who saved them was on fire!

Greenhorne reached out his hand to help, seeing they were frozen in fear.


	3. Bemoan

It was the middle of summer the next time the crustacean boats docked. This time, there were sullen faces instead of smiles and hearty laughter that entered the restaurant.

Lynn was the first to notice. Walking up to Mac, captain of one of the boats, she didn't beat around the question and blurted, "what's up? What's with the heavy faces." She elbowed him, trying to lighten the mood.

The old man seemed to have the most grim face of them all. He took off his hat and stepped aside to let the rest of his crew fill in the diner. He breathed in a heavy sigh before answering. "We lost...several lives at sea a week ago."

Lynn's face fell immediately.

"It was due to a rescue at an oil rig that had gone up in flames," he explained further.

She was shocked speechless. She tried to voice an apology but all that came out was a stutter.

Mac held his hand up. "There's no need for apologizes, Ms. Frankenshire."

Lynn forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

The news traveled fast, and in almost no time, it entered the kitchen. There were no jokes that were made in the restaurant, there were only polite smiles that didn't reach the eyes, and no laughter. It was abnormally quiet, which is why Eve immediately picked it up when she entered Ruby's, readying herself to begin the lunch shift. Everyone she turned to either swiftly walked away, eyes cast down, or gave her a quick answer before leaving.

She tied an apron to her waist feeling just as confused the day she moved to the small town.

Brandi bit her thumbnail. From behind the EMPLOYEES ONLY window, she watched Eve begin taking orders from the regular customers.

"I gotta tell her," she mumbled to herself. She had barely began pushing the door open when someone grabbed her arm.

"NO!"

It was Monica.

"You can't tell her—it'd crush her!"

The fishermen of Arcadia were very close to many of the waiters and waitresses of Ruby's, almost to be like family. Finding out that one had died was like finding out that a close cousin had.

Brandi tugged her arm but it was no use. "It's better one of us tell her than her finding out on her own," Brandi protested, knowing the feeling of finding out a death by others than family all too well.

"No!" Monica disagreed.

"Why are you so intent on this!?"

Monica became quiet.

Brandi has seen her hang around Eve often—she was the girl who had shown Eve around and gave her tips and clues about the restaurant when Eve first got the job. Monica had immediately clung to her like a sister; though Monica was older, she acted more like the younger sibling. That was one of the best things about the restaurant—one could sense the homey feel as soon as walking thru the door, everyone felt like it was family here, for those who worked _and_ those who didn't.

Brandi understood why Monica didn't want Eve to know—she didn't want to see Eve hurt.

"I'll tell her." Monica let go of Brandi's arm and straighten up. Her face became deadpan as she walked out the back room. She approached the other woman slowly.

Eve was walking back to the kitchen to place the orders she had just taken when she saw Monica out the corner of her eye.

She placed a hand on Eve's arm. She eyed it before looking back at Monica.

"Eve," she began slowly, "there's something you need to know."

To Monica's surprise, she had laughed. "I was wondering when someone would," she giggled slightly as she tore a page of orders for the cooks. "I noticed that everyone's been a little off tod—-"

"Some of the fishermen were lost in a large fire at an oil rig," Monica blurted, interrupting her.

Eve stood frozen with one arm still outstretched. She stared at Monica with a look, she then began to speak but was interrupted again.

"It happened a week ago at sea. Mac said Greenhorne was one of them. He had been the one who helped the trapped people get out but perished in an explosion because he didn't make it to the helicopter."

This time Monica was sure that it was fear that was on Eve's face. No, terror—no, horror.

She watched as Eve's lips mouth a silent "what?!" before beginning to tremble.

"I'm so sorry..." Monica felt tears fill her eyes as well. She was familiar with Henri as well, though not as much as Eve, and he had been a good acquaintance of hers. Monica reached out to give her friend a hug.

The young fisherman, the one who been elbowed by Mac last time, pulled his hat down and turned from the two women.

For the rest of the day and weeks that followed, Ruby's Diner was a quieter and doleful place.

Somewhere in Arcadia, a man walked the streets. He smelled of smoke and wore a stolen shirt and jacket from the back of a car. He had thrown away his name tag and fisherman pants. They were burnt and ripped anyway and he hadn't any use for them anymore.

He had been headed out of town, but somewhere along the way, got lost in his head and his feet had taken him down a familiar street. Somehow, he had ended up across the street from Ruby's Diner. He stared at the building for a long time before turning and walking back to the main road.

He had seen somewhere inside the restaurant, that a woman in the back continuously wiped her eyes.

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**Any reviews for the New Year, please?**


	4. Woebegone

**There was an error on site so I couldn't update sooner like I wanted :(**

**Thanks so much for the reviews! Really, they mean a lot. :)**

**I forgot to mention in the last chapter, "bemoan" means to express discontent or sorrow over something.**

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She didn't cry. Even when she felt tears begin to burn, she didn't allow herself. She had put up a front for the first week at Ruby's. She had had to act sad and as if she was grieving—it would have appeared odd to many if she did not. Yet she refused to cry.

Why should she have? She had hardly known them to begin with. How could Eve had felt sad for people she hadn't even known? She had no reason to feel sad.

Yet she found herself wiping her eyes more often than was necessary.

There were no words to describe how much the deaths had effected everyone at the diner. The air itself had begun feeling heavy and unhappy. There were those who hadn't known the reason and had felt uncomfortable from the atmosphere. Then there were those who knew and had left generous tips to the servers and words of comfort to the fishermen.

The fishing crews haven't been the same since.

It were those who were the closet to those deceased who had expressed the most grief, so it had not been many who had shed tears from the restaurant. Eve hadn't really known any of them personally.

Then why was she bawling so openly?

She knew that marshmallows, ice cream, macaroni and cheese, and mashed potatoes were no good. They were comfort foods that no human being should binge in one sitting. Though that hadn't stopped her. More and more she found herself consuming more chocolate than actually eating a balanced meal.

It had been raining heavily for the past week in Arcadia, which wasn't good for her current situation—her tears had suddenly overflowed while she was on the road, and it was already difficult to see thru the rain.

Earlier, everything had seemed to be going wrong: Eve had arrived to work with her hair in tangles because her alarm hadn't gone off. Later, she had spilled a customer's soup on herself three times, back to back, _while_ carrying it out. After work, while in a grocery store, her umbrella had been stolen from _inside_ her truck, she had gotten spit-upped on by a baby, and on the way out, the bags ripped. And when she had stepped in a deep puddle of dirty water and ripped the knees of her jeans from her fall, she had just cracked. The crappy day added with a recent death did not accumulate to anything good. So she could understand why she was crying from behind the wheel. It was all too much.

The sky was cloudless gray and the rain made everything blend together into gray nothingness.

She didn't like the way her face was now drenched and how she could feel her face swelling from emotion. But she was at the point where she didn't give two shits about anything.

If she was to be honest, she _did_ feel sorrowful about the deaths.

The radio was cranked to a good volume and she was alone, driving down a long road strip to her house. So it was okay to cry right now, she had told herself.

Arcadia is a cross between a country town and a larger urban one. The houses accumulated the country part and were very spaced apart. The rest of the town could be compared to a small urban town. And with the sky raining cats and dogs, there was no humanly way Eve would have been able to see the large dark shape in the road.

The local radio station was currently playing one of the slow top hits and Eve felt herself mouthing along with the words. Mouthing, because words refused to come out her mouth. She had been so inside herself, drenched with tears, that it wasn't until her truck ran over a particularly large bump did she finally slow down and consider her speeding.

The windshield wipers were still on high but outside still looked very blurry from the rain.

Eve slowed her truck to a stop after consideration. She dried her eyes and made sure there were no other vehicles around before adjusting her mirrors to see the ground behind her. A large speeding hump rested in the road that she hadn't remembered before. But as she continued staring at it, she realized that it wasn't asphalt, and mused thoughts on what it could be. Waste that someone had thrown away or forgotten? It wasn't a tree...and definitely too small to be a bear... It was a deer...? She began readying to drive off when she realized what it was.

"Oh my god, I hit someone!" she practically screamed. The figure moved a little and a wave of relief washed over her.

Without much thinking, Eve had hopped out her truck and back into the freezing rain. Immediately she had stepped in a deep puddle and shivered feeling her pants being soaked up to her knees. The rain itself weighing her down in an instant.

The figure was lying facedown on the ground. Eve pressed her ear to the back and sighed in relief when she picked up a heartbeat. She didn't know if the person—a man actually, she saw—was continuous enough to hear her, she still uttered apologizes and words of comfort. She got an even bigger shock when she turned the body over.

Eve practically jumped away from the body. She covered her mouth in shock, to say the least—it was like staring at a ghost.

"...Henri...?" The words that came before were not the cleanest choice. She stared at his emotionless face until she clicked back to reality, which luckily wasn't very long.

Luckily, he was still breathing.

She grabbed him under his arms, ready to carry him to her truck. She forgot that rain can add several unwanted pounds and was reduced to dragging him across the asphalt.

"God I'm sorry, Henri. ..What are you even doing here...am I dreaming...?!" she mumbled, partially to herself. Eve sniffed and looked around, hoping no car would be coming down the road for a good while. This would have definitely looked bad to a bystander. She was startled hearing him cough violently. His eyes were still closed, she saw. "I'll get you to a hospital," she spoke regardless he was still unconscious. "Just stay with me."

He moved suddenly in her arms. He coughed again before speaking in a low voice, "don't go to the hospital."

Eve had stopped in her tracks. She was just about to haul him into her backseat. She hesitated before answering him, not sure she had even hear him. "Why not...?"

Henri had begun to answer but his words trailed off. When Eve asked him again, tapping his face, he had already slipped back into unconsciousness.

Eve sighed.

Someone's stomach gurgled _loudly_ then. And it wasn't hers.

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**Don't forget to review please C:**


	5. Fraud

Blue eyes blinked open to a warm, dimly lit room.

Henri bolted upright. He patted himself down—his jacket and shoes were gone, and under him was...soft cushion...?

He was lying on a towel draped over a sofa, which had become soaked from his rainwater. Henri ran a hand down his face and looked around. The last thing he remembered was being weak from hunger and the feeling of rain falling.

Across from the coffee table in front of him was more cream-colored furniture. The room was lit by a few lamps that were on; he crinkled his nose, catching the smell of vanilla. He was in someone's living room as far as he could tell. He then strained his ears to listen to the house and picked up a another voice not too far off.

Then he remembered. _'Eve..!'_

Both hands slapped his face as Henri cursed himself.

She must have taken him...wherever he was now, he thought to himself.

The sound from the sofa as he stood must have been loud to her because Eve then hurried into the room, phone still attached to the ear.

"I'll call you later," she quickly ended the conversation as Henri looked up from his shoes. She came a few steps closer. "I thought you weren't going to be up for another half hour or so."

The look he gave her showed he was obviously not comfortable or nervous and was thinking of a response.

"Sit down, sit down," Eve waved her hand in downward motion. "Get comfortable."

He watched her brighten a lamp nearest her and wave her hand over the bowl on the coffee table he hadn't noticed before.

Henri's senses went on overdrive then as he picked out small bits about his surroundings. The ends of a white nightie pocked out from the bottom of her red robe; Eve's hair was pulled up into what he thought was supposed to be a bun and was still damp, so she must have just showered. A beeping sound came from the kitchen, meaning something was on the stove. He could hear the house's heating system buzzing. Eve's pulse was slightly above normal. A radio played somewhere in the back of her place. The rain outside had eased.

"...sorry. It's still warm though. And I can get you a blanket if you're still cold."

Henri blinked, focusing back on the subject at hand. He hadn't caught the beginning of her sentence.

"I said," Eve softly answered, "you need to eat. You passed out because your stomach was screaming bloody murder..."

Henri shook his head and began gathering his missing clothing that were hanging on a chair. "Thanks, Miss Lancaster, but I have to be going now."

"You can't go out there when it's still pouring like that. ...At least let me dry your clothes."

He hurried to where he hoped the front door was. "Thank you, but I really need to leave."

"Don't you think it's a bit soon, especially after the accident..?"

He paused. "What accident?"

He didn't turn around and Eve squinted her eyes at his back. "You... ...you don't remember what just happened an hour ago?"

Henri turned around and she knew that he didn't.

"I had... ...I..hit you with my car..."

His brows furrowed, his jaw slacking open a bit.

"You were knocked out cold and you had mumbled something about how I shouldn't take you to the hospital." She twiddled her fingers together. "I'm so sorry, Henri! I didn't mean it, honest! It's just that when everyone thought you were dead...and the road was hard to see with the rain anyway, and—-" She stopped abruptly.

Eve hoped that he wasn't too mad. There was no way she could afford a lawsuit, much less even a simple speeding ticket. Money was tight; it was getting increasingly difficult to even pay for simple living expenses.

Henri had turned away, rubbing his forehead. "I guess _that's_ why I have such a headache," he lied.

Eve pressed her hands together, "please, please don't file a lawsuit. I'm so so _so_—-"

"It's fine, Eve," he chuckled. He made a show of stumbling to a nearby chair. "Why would I have any reason to charge you?"

She made her way to him. Eve grabbed his arm. "I have to get you to a hospital."

And again, Henri refused. He pulled his arm away from her. "No. I can't go."

She hesitated. Maybe this time, since he was awake and conscious, she could get some answers. "Why not."

Henri remained quiet, unsure of how to answer her. Eve wrapped her arms around her torso nervously. She was beginning to regret bringing him to her place.

"Henri..." she spoke warningly.

he looked up to her, blinking rapidly, appearing to have snapped out of a daze. "I, uh..."

"Why can't you go to the hospital?" Her voice hardened but was still wary. "It's not like you're a terrorist or killer or something like that." Then she thought for a moment. "...Right...?"

Henri shook his head vigorously. "No. NO! It's 'cause I... I'm a... I'm...I'm not from...this..here," he stalled, trying to form a convincing lie. "I'm an immigrant; I'm not from America," he lied.

Eve blinked.

"Oh," she answered after a short silence.

_'Well that makes perfect sense.'_

"Well if that's the case, I know someone who's—-"

"That's okay," he interrupted. "But it's not really needed," he chuckled.

Eve's face deadpanned. "That hit must have _really_ went to your head, Henri..."

She rubbed her neck. She really didn't want anything bad to happen. She wanted to get him help, but she also didn't want him arrested just from seeing a doctor.

Before she knew it, he was standing in front of her. Henri placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Have you ever collided with a wall going close to 85 miles per hour?"

Eve's eyes widened. She shook her head slowly.

"If I can handle that, than I _think_ I can handle being clipped by a car going under 50," he smiled. He saw her shoulders slump and relaxed at knowing his lie had put her at ease.

Eve sighed, "okay. But tomorrow, first thing in the morning, you're going to my doctor-friend." She waggled a finger at him, content that he was still able to focus on her. It seemed as if his headache was gone too, but she made a mental note to get him an icepack in precaution.

And just in case, Eve then held up a number of fingers to his face and asked, "how many fingers am I holding up?"

**_*.§~§.*_**

Brown waves tumbled over her shoulders as dark blueish-gray eyes stared back, vacant, in the mirror.

She had already said goodnight to Henri, who was left to sleep on the sofa due to her lack of a guest room. She remembered him looking out of place, his large frame making her sofa look small than she remembered.

He hadn't spoken much since either, and Eve still wasn't sure if this was all a dream.

Now, she cried in bed.

She didn't want this—him—to just be a figment of her imagination conjured up out of grief and the feeling of abandonment returned. She turned over to her side and did her best to remain quiet. She was very tired but was afraid to fall asleep.

Henri, on the other hand, had no problem. He was wide awake for the time being and didn't think that sleep was going to come to him.

He could hear her crying muffled by what he guessed had to be her pillow.

He felt awful for having to lie to her. After all this, from whatever somewhat-friendship they had built, he still felt it was necessary to lie to her. A part of him to himself it was for the best, that it was to protect her in case anything else went wrong; the other part didn't want to, and to have her know like his childhood friends Pete and Lana.

And he knew why she was crying.

He was going to leave by morning before she awoke anyway, he already planned.

Henri was going to get rid of his tracks, leave her to think that it all never happened. It was better that way. But for the time being, he had to get some rest. He was grateful for the meal she gave him earlier, and the blankets were soft and warm.

He focused on the sound of the rain hitting the roof and closed his eyes.

**_*.§~§.*_**

However, the rest of the world wouldn't be so generous—some time during the night, Henri awoke.

Some sound, he had thought it was that scared him awake, it sounded too close to Eve's house.

He sat up. The candles had melted and now had small puddles of wax underneath. Two lamp were left on for the night, turned down low in case he needed to use the bathroom, Eve had told him. The rest of the lights in the house were off. The rain had stopped, and—-

There is was again! This time he was sure—it was metal hitting the concrete.

Slowly, Henri stood from the small couch. He made sure not to make a sound as he crept across her floors, listening for the sound again. And when he heard it, his hands balled into fists.

It was someone breaking into her house.

Henri paused and listened. Turning to look down the hallway leading to her bedroom, he zeroed in on the source of the noise. Looking thru her bedroom door, he saw the burglar undoing her window, hardly making a sound to the human ear. Henri doubted that the person knew it lead to her bedroom and when he looked again, he saw that a handgun was tucked to his waist.

Henri sprinted down the hall and knocked rapidly on her bedroom door. It wasn't too loud for the burglar to hear but loud enough to what he hoped would awake her.

Luckily, she was a light sleeper and was soon at the door.

"Henri? What is it? ...Isn't it, like, in the early morning?"

He saw her rub her eyes and felt bad about waking her so early. She had told him of her log and hectic work week and all she wanted now was to sleep.

Henri was no longer tired. "I was getting up to get a glass of water when I blacked out. I think I may have hit my head on something and it might be bleeding," he lied, holding the side of his head with a look of pain.

She stared at him for a long moment before directing him to the hallway bathroom. Once inside, he dug into his pocket when she wasn't looking, and applied a good amount of ketchup, from a packet he took from her kitchen, to his forehead.

Eve felt around for bruises and any cuts, but didn't find any. He had to sit on the toilet bowl so she could be somewhat leveled to his face; feigned sounds of hurt whenever she pressed close to the ketchup.

"Looks like you did hit your head pretty hard this time. I left the bandages in the kitchen; I'll go and get 'em. Try not to pass out again, okay?" she patted his cheek playfully.

She missed the small look of disbelief on his face as she turned to leave.

The minute she walked out the doorway, his pupils dilated, looking passed the walls and no longer saw the burglar at her window. In fact, the window lay neatly against the wall.

When he was sure that Eve was a good way away and out of earshot, Henri crept out the bathroom, taking a right opposite Eve's left to get the bandages, and mumbling about keeping bandages in the bathroom instead of kitchens. He peeked into the next room, which was filled with cardboard boxes. Nothing.

Then Henri heard Eve scream.

The burglar was in the kitchen.

By the time Henri came out into the hallway, he saw the tail end of her robe run into her bedroom, the locks sounding behind her. Henri looked at the door before making his way to the kitchen. He made sure to not make a sound. By the time he rounded the corner to the kitchen, it was already empty.

His brows furrowed—he hadn't even heard the person move.

The sound of clattering from the living room drew his attention.

Meanwhile in her room, Eve fumbled around in her room. The lamp that was normally on her bedside had been pushed to the floor and the lightbulb no longer worked. Not thinking to turn on the overhead light, she searched her room for her cellphone. After the receiver answer did she remember that Henri was out there.

Back outside, Henri rushed into the living room.

The burglar had already heard him coming and ran.

Henri walked into the room to see a few golden rings left on the table under a picture.

The burglar had ran into the bathroom. When he thought that the coast was clear to climb back out the window, he opened the door closely, creeping down the hall. He turned and ran back inside seeing Eve walk out the room calling for Henri.

Eve snapped her head around, hearing the bathroom door close behind the burglar. She saw no one in the hallway behind her. She ran to the living room to get Henri.

They ran into each other as he was making his way back to her bedroom. Eve tried calming herself when he looked up to her from his hands.

First, she asked if he was okay, and when he answered that he didn't find the burglar.

"Are these yours," he asked, cupping the fallen jewelry in his hands.

Eve noticed her mother's ring and a pair of earrings her grandfather had given her as an heirloom. She then told him to hide in her bedroom because the burglar was in the bathroom. Instead of following, Henri dumped the jewels into her hands and stalked down the hall, making sure the man could hear his footsteps. He ignored Eve's begging of leaving it alone and how he was still injured.

"Henri," her voice became stern.

His hand hovered over the doorknob.

"_Come inside. Please!_"

He thought about it.

Eve sighed when he turned to follow her inside.

Behind his back, the burglar ran into the next room.

Henri waited until she was well passed the door when he locked it and closed it behind her. He knew that she was going to be upset, angry even, that he was putting himself "more into harm's way," as she had said. He took the few steps across the hall to the bathroom, and swung the door open.

Once again, empty.

He ran into the next room that was filled with boxes she still hadn't unpacked. There, his eyes settled upon the intruder.

The two stood for a while in a sort of cowboy standoff, both staring each other down. Henri's eyes darted to the intruder's waist, knowing the gun he kept there; The burglar realized that the tall man in front of him was unarmed. The burglar fumbled with the gun and held in out in front of him, voicing the usual threat of how he didn't want to shoot but would if he had to, and Henri rolled his eyes.

Henri straightened and took a step forward.

"I'm warning you!" the man yelled.

Eve pressed against her door, hollering for Henri to come back, too afraid to open the door herself.

Henri continued walking forward and the man fired.

Eve froze.

The man stared when the bullet showed no harm. He then panicked, firing round after round, and watched in horror as each bullet ricocheted off Henri's chest. When Henri was in front of the man, he continued holding the weapon in front of him as if it could protect him.

The man let out a yelp when Henri yanked him into the air by his collar.

Eve had already called for the police.

The burglar's feet dangled above the floor; Henri made sure that he took a good look into his eyes before grabbing his wrists behind his back and carrying him to the living room. His grip didn't loosen as he almost broke the man's wrists, causing him to cry out.

When two police cruisers arrived at Eve's house, the door was kicked down to find a scruffy-looking man tied down to an arm chair by the curtains from one of the windows, and a gag in his mouth. His gun and Eve's stolen possessions laid on the same counter under the picture the thief had dropped her jewelry. Eve had been shocked, to say the least; and no matter how many times she explained to the officers and told her story, she earned raised eyebrows and eye rolls in return.

"I'm telling you," Eve pulled at the ends of her hair that hung at her shoulders, "he was here!" She shivered against a gust of cold wind that made its way into her robe.

By the time the cops had showed up at Eve's front door, Henri was long gone.

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**A longer chapter for you all for my absence. I apologize, I've had a lot of homework lately and school has become more critical, but please bare with me and I'll try to update as much as possible (:**

**Some think self-advertising is bad but I'll risk it anyway. My story The Thing I'll Never Say has gotten very little to no love at all and I'm asking may you all please take a look at it and drop a review or two please? I would love to know if I'm moving the story too fast or if it's okay or not because I'm completely clueless :( it would mean a lot!**


	6. Was it Real or wasn't it? (Ch 5 cont)

The smell of sizzling beef flowed from the kitchen. Lynn hummed, the sound of the griddle slightly soothing. She called to one of the waiters nearby to prepare the rest of the burgers and carry them out to the awaiting table.

Lynn slapped three more patties on the hot surface and welcomed the steam that rose. She sent a sideways glance out into the restaurant and saw Eve busy waiting tables. The blonde kept her eye on the brunette for another few seconds before turning her attention back to her work.

The seasonal changes had come and the temperature had dropped further than normal. So much so, there have been many freeze warnings. Many of those were not pleased with the weather and some had to call in sick because of it.

Eve came out from the back with more menus under her arm and many plates in her hands. She had a small, content smile, some noticed, as she talked with costumers—it was something that had become rare with her.

Lynn noticed that Eve was the only one laughing. She turned off the long griddle and washed her hands, preparing to leave. She stopped though, watching Monica beat her to it.

She watched as Eve returned to her tables with their orders and her younger cousin come up beside her and bump hips. Lynn saw a fellow waiter join in the conversation and turn towards the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. Lynn passed by the three, walking out.

"Heeeyyy~" Monica had cooed. "What are you so happy about?"

Eve had not known what the woman had been referring to at first. But after a word from Andy, who had followed them into the back, she connected the dots.

"Nothing," Eve had smiled.

"_'Nothing'_...?" Andy mocked.

"Yes, nothing."

"So, after a week of mourning, all of a sudden you show up smiling, happy-go-lucky, like nothing happened and we're supposed to expect that it is only 'nothing?'" Monica waved her arms exasperatedly.

Eve had to admit that the way she implied it, didmake her appear a little loopy, but she couldn't go and tell them exactly why. She couldn't tell them that she was visited by a friend who had supposedly been dead. She still wasn't sure if it all had been real or not.

"And we saw on the news," Andy added.

"We're just concerned, that's all."

Though the burglary had been over a month ago, Eve still felt wary about the topic.

There was evidence that there had been a break-in. There was her broken bedroom window, the mysterious smear of blood on her kitchen floor cleaned by the investigators, the ripped curtain she replaced. She still couldn't sort out if all she had done was hide and call the police, or if _he _had in fact been over.

"I'm fine," Eve insisted. Then, with a small smile growing, "I had just gotten a call back from a job I had put in months ago."

Andy frowned. "So you're gonna leave us...?"

Monica elbowed him playfully. "So what's this new career?"

"I dunno yet. I put in an application for this company up north—-"

"-—Lemme guess; some fashion industry?"

Eve just smiled. Since she was small, all she wanted to do was work with clothes, to create styles that people would love and she'd see them wearing it as she walked down the street. It is what she's bee taking classes for for years.

"I should get a callback by five today, when I should get back home by. ...I'd be lucky to get a receptionist's job."

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**Yeah I know. You all are screaming at me for this pitiful chapter length. I am too. I've been looking at this story for so long and I wanted to add something badly, albeit short. So I'm belting this out in between homework assignments. I'm in between writing my first screenplay for my class and passing my second semester. But I plan the next one or two chapters of Finding Home to probably be Eve-centric, and the next coming chapter will be longer. Reviews, of course, make them come faster.**


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